Fireworks for July: A Holiday Bites Vampire Paranormal Holiday Romances by Michele Bardsley Page A

over his brow. The look in his mud-brown eyes did not reassure her. His greasy skin was a shade too yellow, and he was the kind of thin that suggested starvation or drug use. July pressed a hand to her roiling belly. He smelled like burnt onions.
    The vibes she was getting off this guy were all bad. “Turn around, please.”
    “Sure, sure.” He made a left turn into an alley and stopped. “Just gotta back up.”
    He made no effort to put the car into reverse. The engine idled, the headlights casting yellows spots on graffitied walls and overstuffed Dumpsters.
    “What are you waiting for?” she asked, her voice quivering. “Turn around now!”
    He laughed.
    Heart pounding, she grabbed the handle to the door and yanked, but it wouldn’t budge.
    “You’re a sweet morsel,” he said. His smile revealed gaps in his stained teeth. Something animalistic flashed in his eyes. “He’s gonna like you.”
    “H-he?”
    Movement on the left side of the alley caught her eye. A shadowy figure drifted toward the car. July yanked on the handle again and pounded on the window. “Help! Someone help me!”
    To her shock, the shadow dissolved into black mist that hissed through the cracked window and into the back seat. Within seconds a man sat beside her. He was dressed in a business suit, though that was the only normal thing about him. His shaggy hair was black, a bleak contrast to his ghostly paleness. His eyes were red. He opened his mouth and revealed a set of nasty, sharp fangs.
    July screamed.
    * * *
    Carter Mattison rounded the corner into the alleyway and stopped. He stared at the parked cab. He heard a scream, confirming the two passengers were not playing backseat bingo. This was Vegas, a nice, fat feeding ground for paranormals—especially vampires. Scooter. The conscienceless prick always pulled this crap. The woman screamed again, and Carter flinched. The dolly had a nice set of lungs on her.
    Being a vampire had its advantages. Carter jumped into the air, arced over the cab and landed on the hood. The metal caved in with a thump-crunch. He heard Scooter swear as he flung open the door. The cabbie got one foot out. Carter punched through the glass and grabbed his T-shirt, yanking him through the shattered windshield.
    The rogue vampire in the backseat turned into mist and streamed away. Didn’t matter. He would be found and dealt with. The woman was slumped over. He smelled the sharp tang of her blood, but her heartbeat was strong. She’d only fainted.
    “Scooter,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m disappointed.”
    “I didn’t do nothing!” The whites of his eyes showed, and from the smell, he’d pissed himself, too. Carter sighed. That happened a lot. Man or beast, fear often made their bladders go.
    “We had a conversation about your aberrant behavior. You made a promise. If any vampires paid you to bring them dinner, you were supposed to tell me.”
    “I was gonna call you,” whined Scooter.
    Probably after the little jerk-off had relieved the witless victim of all her credits and anything of value he could pawn. She wouldn’t have been killed. The local vampires reacted swiftly and decisively against paranormal murderers of tourists. Robbing them of possessions could be forgiven; robbing them of life was an unpardonable offense.
    The unofficial rule was not to prey on tourists, after all the humans were the bread-and-butter of this city. But vampires weren’t Boy Scouts and neither was he.
    “I was gonna tell you, Carter!” Scooter went limp in the vampire’s grasp. “I swear!”
    “You’re a liar. And you can’t be trusted.” Carter grabbed Scooter by the chin and dug his nails into the man’s cheeks. Blood dripped from the tiny wounds.
    “C’mon, man. Gimme another chance.”
    “I’m sorry, Scooter,” said Carter. “I’m turning you over to Chance.”
    The horror on Scooter’s face was warranted. Carter had learned many excruciating, not to mention slow, ways to take lives. He